How to Write a Poem No.1

Out of nowhere, in mid-thought or sigh, you wake up to the realization that this cubicle nightmare of an internship just might well be your future. You stop what you’re doing, breathing heavily against the gnawing thought that suddenly crept like a ghost into the back of your mind. You start to envision yourself wrapped in scarves and grey sweaters to fight the relentless cold of the air conditioner, a coffee mug with the company logo, bored listless eyes glued to the computer screen, your fingers typing away the same thing that you’d been typing for weeks at a time and your mind drifting off, counting the minutes ’til you step out of the office into the sunshine, into the world that had been waiting for you since the moment you opened your eyes this morning.

Fuck it.

You head to the bathroom, wanting to curl into yourself -to fold in half like paper trying to keep a secret all to yourself. On a piece of tissue paper with a pen you took from another employee’s table, you write.

You write about the world outside the office window. You write about the world and the people in it. About how it all seems like a museum, where you look at them from a distance, glass between. About how slowly the child in you dies, everyday as the distant, incessant, dull music of keyboards and beeps grow louder and louder.

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Published by

cie miraflor

A Filipino at heart and a Thomasian in spirit. A vocalist. A bookworm. A chocoholic. A liar. A dreamer. A coffee addict. A writer of poetry and short stories. A pending Information Technologist. A frustrated programmer. Blinded with love for Batman.

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